


Sick Time Lords Need Comfort Too

by catvampcrazines



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: ;), A sprinkling of crack., F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, dash of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 15:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2698487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catvampcrazines/pseuds/catvampcrazines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless h/c for a certain, sickly, Time Lord. Donna’s not letting him wander around, no matter how much he pleads!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Time Lords Need Comfort Too

**Author's Note:**

> Written a bit after End of Time: Part Two came out.
> 
> For all of my sad-hearted fans. I certainly needed this, so I thought you might too. *squish*

"No." Donna stood above the Doctor from where he lay on his favorite, comfiest, couch in his favorite, but-it-has-an-Old Earth-tv, media room. Like so often, Donna had her arms crossed as he tried to plead with her.  
  
"But—"  
  
"You are not getting out of that bed, Mr.," Donna cut him off and forcefully tucked a powder-blue blanket around the Doctor, fluffing the pillows beneath his head while she gently lifted it. Cocooned in, he looked like an outer-space Time-Lord wrap. Non-vegetarian. "The universe and all of time and space can wait. Right now, you’re much more important to me and  _you_  can hardly stand three seconds without blowing your nose,” she chided, wedging a pink box of tissue against his side.  
  
The Doctor looked up at Donna beseechingly. “I don’t like staying still like this, you know that. I’ll,” he tried to free himself by bending his elbows, grunting, “be fine.” He couldn’t quite break her stellar tucking, refusing to roll around and stopping for a breather after he’d managed to bend his body up to a precarious 45 degree angle.  
  
Donna glared at him, two fingers pressing him back down with ease. “Oh, don’t strain yourself.”  _This was supposed to be comforting?_  ”Should I mention that I just found you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like you might fall down, after taking ten minutes to make a cup of tea?” Donna settled him back in, hand wiping at the dampness of his warm cheek. “As cute as you are, all puppy-eyed and flushed, I think you need at least a couple days of rest before I let you run around.”  
  
"Well, that’s just gonna make me flush more, isn’t it,  _mum_?” he sighed. His chin certainly did not wobble the tiniest bit at her very tender touch stroking the hair away from his forehead.  
  
She sat on the edge of the couch and gave his hairline a kiss. “Just watch some movies,” she began softly, then added gloatingly, “I think I was nice enough, letting you stay here instead of in a real bed.”  
  
He pouted and kept silent.   
  
She poked his padded side. “ _Wasn’t I?_ ”  
  
He squirmed away as much as he could, which wasn’t much at all, hissing a “ _Y_ _esss!_ "  He glared weakly at her for her obvious taking advantage of the situation and fixed her with his best, albeit diluted, I’m-not-kidding stare. "But I  _am_  serious. I’m old enough to take—”   
  
"Mmmhmmm," she cut him off, humming warmly as she stroked his cocooned side.   
  
"Fine." He conceded, figuring he’d given enough of his stubborn-Time-Lord show to prove she didn’t have him  _completely_  domesticated. “Will you at least,” he tried to muffle his voice beneath his blanket-wrap, “ _stay_  with me?” He wouldn’t say cuddle.  
  
"No worries," she laughed, voice like honey as he shut his eyes. "Just let me go make you some toast with jam real quick."   
  
The Doctor exhaled a luxuriating sigh when he felt Donna’s arms encircle him, the upper half of her body pressing close to give him one of her very best hugs—10 seconds of tight squeezing, some hair petting combination scalp massaging, and a light kiss to the side of his neck while he breathed in the lush floral scent of her shampoo.   
  
"… mkay," he murmured tamely, drifting and melting against the cushions.


End file.
